


say good night (and go)

by Kamiizumi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, minsung - Freeform, minsung season | colourful autumn, one-sided Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know - Freeform, past Lee Minho/Kim Seungmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27173389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamiizumi/pseuds/Kamiizumi
Summary: But for the love of everything that Jisung stands for, Minho is so considerate; always has been, and always will be. Trying his best to make time for his best friend and his boyfriend, constantly double-checking and rechecking and referencing this or that. For as cordial and civil Jisung and Seungmin were (and they really were; Jisung had no bad blood with him whatsoever), it became too apparent that they were two halves of a Venn diagram with only one common thread – Minho.And when Minho tries to make their thing “our thing” instead, Jisung becomes accustomed to standing down and standing aside. Doesn’t wanna be the third wheel, has too many exams to study for, has a paper due in three days, all said with a complacent smile on his face.It doesn’t take long before Minho’s t h i n g s with him become Minho’s t h i n g s with Seungmin instead, and when the older boy stops asking him altogether, Jisung decides to ignore that it really just might be his fault after all.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 5
Kudos: 111
Collections: MINSUNG SEASON: Colourful Autumn 2020





	say good night (and go)

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to day 4 of minsung season [g r e e n]!
> 
> for this submission, my main theme was the idea of jealousy/envy, the green-eyed devil, but also the idea of finally stepping on the pedal when the light turns green - go. i hope you enjoy, and if you wanna check out more submissions for minsung season, please don't hesitate to check out https://twitter.com/minsungseason !

When Jisung takes that step out of the cab and out into the rather windy night, the chill that greets him sends goosebumps down the lengths of his arms – but in a good, familiar way. Two years is a long time, nearly half a decade, and while he’s done some growing up and a bit of changing (like the color of his hair and the amount of steel hanging off his ears), some things just...stay the same. A thin smile spreads across his cheeks as he tugs his scarf a little tighter around his neck, before craning his head up at the brightly lit sign of the building in front of him.

Time away has given him a bit of a taste for alcohol. Not that he’s a heavyweight, but he’s at least figured what he does and doesn’t like, and he could  _ really _ use a drink after a fourteen-hour flight.

Truth be told, his hometown isn’t  _ anything _ special. Sure, the large Seoul metropolitan area was a delight for anyone that didn’t live in the area, but to him, this was all he’d known for most of his life. Still, that didn’t stop him from deep-diving into his memories during the cab ride over from Incheon. A bit of self-indulgent nostalgia never hurt anyone.

There’s music softly playing over the speakers inside the dim, yet comfortably lit pub. The buzz of light laughter and conversation drifts from the few patrons inside, minding their own business over the sizzle of grilled meat and clinking shot glasses. Jisung’s acquired a taste for – not quite the expensive, but – the fruity and fun, the brightly colored, ultra sugary cocktails that leave him puckering and wanting more. Jisung wonders if the pub has anything like that, particularly one with a cute decorative paper umbrella he could play with.

(A roommate back in the States introduced him to the monstrosity that is  _ rumchata cheesecake shots _ . Not his best decision ever, but in that moment it seemed like the greatest thing he’d ever shoved down his throat.)

The bartender at the bar gives him a double-take, maybe because he’s always looked like a child with his round cheeks, but acquiesces without Jisung having to pull out his ID (which happened quite frequently back in New York, much to his chagrin). It doesn’t take long for him to pick something off their drink menu, selecting a delectable yet simplistic margarita topped with a few slices of lime. Extra syrup, per his request.

When the bartender turns around to start crafting his drink, Jisung stares down at his phone, watching his reflection in the blackness of the glass. Something itches at him to just...pick it up and give someone a call, send someone a message, post a picture on Instagram, and hope that everyone was expecting him to be back.

Except that isn’t really the case.

When the bartender wordlessly sets his drink down on the counter in front of him, Jisung quickly swipes it up to bring it to his lips, wanting some of the liquid courage that could push him to open up his contacts and ring up the first person he recognizes. Eyes still glued to the small screen in his hand, he picks up the glass with the other to raise it to his mouth – and within seconds, recoils, because the amber liquid sitting in his glass was  _ very _ much not the extra-sweet margarita he ordered.

Jisung winces and looks down at the glass in his hand, and only then realizes that he’s not even holding a margarita glass, as evidenced by the stout cylinder between his fingers filled with something he could only pinpoint as whiskey.

With the bitterness still lingering in his mouth, Jisung returns his attention to the bartender, whose turned-back greeted him as the man polished glasses behind the counter.

“Um, excuse m – “

“Hey, I think you – “

Jisung pauses instinctively at the voice that collides with his own and searches for the patron he just interrupted. His breath sticks in his throat – like a honeybee in thick amber – when he sees the owner of the voice sitting just a few seats down the bar.

  
  
  


_ Maybe something tugs a little bit at his chest – like an itch that can’t be scratched or a shoe that’s always a teensy bit tighter on one foot than the other – when Jisung notices the way his best friend trades verbal jabs with his classmate, Seungmin. With anyone else, Minho is a force of nature by virtue of being both the eye of the storm and the storm itself. And yet, Seungmin is the first to walk against the wind with his head held up high, as if tethered to the earth by some other counterforce. _

_ Jisung’s not jealous – how could he even admit to such a treasonous, outlandish thought, he thinks all the time – when Minho easily falls into conversation with Seungmin at lunch, the way the two of them normally did back before Seungmin entered their relatively small friend circle. Jisung doesn’t think much of it, he doesn’t like to think anything of it when the way Minho and Seungmin poke at each other borders on flirty on more occasions than not. _

_ And thus, it shouldn’t have surprised him when Minho drops the bomb on him during lunch one day, causing Jisung to instantly choke on a french fry as a gut-punch reaction. _

_ “You what?” _

_ Minho looks at him with a laugh threatening to teeter off his tightly pursed lips. “I asked Seungmin out on a date. You heard me the first time.” _

_ Jisung tries not to let the incredulity show on his face, but it’s difficult when half a french fry is hanging from his teeth and his face is tense-frozen in a half-smile, half-cringe kind of expression. _

_ “...Is there a problem – “ _

_ “N-No!” Jisung says all too quickly, before swallowing the remainder of his french fry. “So...what did he say?” _

_ “He said yes, because why wouldn’t he?” Minho seems smug, just by the telltale smirk on his face. “You know you’re being a little weird right now. You sure you’re okay? If you don’t want me to go out with him, then – ” _

_ Jisung forces the best coagulation of a smile onto his face, which seems to placate Minho for the time being. “No! No. Okay, well. I mean...it is a little weird. I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?” He stares at the older boy, half expecting him to admit that it was just an odd joke on his part. _

_ Minho shrugs instead and picks at his salad like a child digging sand in a playpen. “I mean, maybe I would have said that a few weeks ago, but I think he’s alright.” _

  
  
  


His eyes are unfocused and granted he might as well have been staring out into space, but it isn’t until the voice that he interrupted speaks again that Jisung finally drags himself out of the quicksand pit of his memories.

“...Han Jisung, is that you?” He refocuses his vision at the sound of his name, a refreshing sound that instantly makes his chest pump as if shocked with a defibrillator. 

His best friend – if he even had the privilege of still calling him that – is sitting three stools away. Beyond the fancy new assortment of metal hanging off his ears, he still looks as dashing as ever, if a bit more refined. Minho’s lips are stretched from cheek to cheek in a mirthful smile, and the margarita that  _ should _ have been in Jisung’s hands is sitting between Minho’s fingers instead.

“I...ah... _ wow _ ,” is all Jisung could muster, an awkward chuckle stumbling out of his throat as he stares upon the older man. “Y-Yes..it is me. Ugh,  _ God _ , I’m being weird,” JIsung stutters before hopping off his seat and marching the short distance toward Minho.

Minho hops off his stool at the last moment to meet him halfway, and Jisung greets him with a bone-crushing yet still quite cordial hug, complete with a few claps on the back from the older of the two.

“Well, this is really surprising… Jeez, sit, we have to catch up, Sungie.” The nickname makes his cheeks heat up a little bit more than usual, but Jisung hopes the bar is dark enough to hide the flush on his face. “You practically went AWOL after a month in the States.” Minho regards him with an inquisitive brow, one that Jisung’s all too used to, but acquiesces when Minho sits back in his stool and pats the one right next to him. “Also, you can have your drink back. You know I don’t do too well with sweet things.”

_ One of the few reasons why I never tried. _

Jisung chuckles, something both wholly natural and unnatural to him because it’s something he’d once been used to doing around his best friend. (If he can still call Minho his best friend.)

  
  
  


_ One date becomes two dates, two dates become four, and four eventually turns into Minho sitting on the same side of the table as Seungmin instead of across from him, feeding him his french fries instead of stealing them off his tray like Minho used to. _

_ I’m not jealous, I’m not supposed to be jealous, Jisung thinks. We’re all friends here, he chants like a mantra, but it seems more like a warcry whenever Seungmin plans for “us”. A separate “us” meaning he and Minho, and not all three of them with their other friends. _

_ “...Is that a milkshake?” Jisung asks one day when Minho arrives at his table by his lonesome while he’s typing away at his laptop. The pink-tinged blended drink in his hand makes Jisung’s eyebrows furrow, who’s more used to seeing Minho walking around with an iced Americano in his hands. _

_ “Mhm. Strawberry.” Minho takes a nonchalant sip out of the cup as if it is one of his favored iced Americanos. Seungmin likes strawberries, Jisung remembers. _

_ “I thought you hated sweet things.” _

_ “I mean, I do, but Seungmin told me to finish it because he didn’t wanna bring it with him into the library when I dropped him earlier. Like I’m gonna let it go to waste.” Minho smiles curtly and raises an eyebrow, before noisily sipping the milkshake. “Y’know...this isn’t half bad.” _

_ Jisung sneers at him before ducking his head back into his laptop; he’s really got to get better at this “accepting your friends are dating” thing. _

  
  
  


“You go first,” Minho quips, before leaning an elbow on the counter and propping his chin on his fist. “I feel like it’s only right.”

Minho’s not  _ wrong _ ; he’s hardly ever  _ wrong _ , but Jisung’s too prideful to go down without a fight.

Jisung chuckles dryly and stares into the wispy, pale yellow of his margarita, resisting the urge to down it in one go and order another one. “...Um...well I graduated back in May, actually. I decided to spend the summer in New York; y’know, just...revisiting old haunts with the rest of my classmates before we all parted ways.” Jisung sighs deeply and swirls the drink in his hands before taking a swig. “I had already made up my mind to go back home after finishing there, anyway.”

“Uh huh…” Minho regards him over the rim of his own glass, smacking his plump lips in a way that makes Jisung’s eyes linger for half a second longer than he would have liked. “How is New York? It’s not too cold up there, is it?”

Jisung chuckles inwardly. “Cold and wet. Kinda gross, but ultimately...not as bad as I thought it would be. Really big, though. I got lost on more than one occasion.”

“You never were great at directions – “

“ _ It’s a whole different country, Lee Minho –  _ “

“If the shoe fits.” 

The snicker hanging off the corners of Minho’s lips is infectious, and the two of them can’t resist bursting into laughter simultaneously. As if Jisung didn’t up and leave two years ago in the pursuit of his dreams...and running away from a few harsh realities.

Minho stares at the bottom of his empty glass before setting it on the counter. “...You know you never did take very well to these kinds of places. You wanna take this somewhere else? I feel like I should give you a welcome tour of the area since it’s been so long since you’ve been home.” His smirk is daunting, but Jisung knows he’s right. “Grab some food, take my car up to Namsan. Just like old times. You up for it?”

_ Just like old times. _ His heart races a little bit, and something tells him it shouldn’t because they’ve  _ always _ done that, at least back when he was still around. Jisung decides to down the rest of his margarita, shortly before placing the glass back on the counter, followed by his card.

“...You sure you’re gonna be okay driving up to Namsan?”

“It’s one drink, Sungie. I dunno how much your tolerance increased since moving to the States, but we both know which one of us is the heavyweight.”

Jisung laughs inwardly and pockets his card when the bartender returns it to him; Minho follows suit with a few bills on the table.

“Fine. But I get to pick what we’re eating.”

“You  _ always  _ pick what we’re eating, and I end up paying.”

“You never let me pay for it  _ anyway _ – “

A cheeky laugh slips from Minho as he hops off his stool and straightens out his clothes. Jisung notes his sense of style hasn’t changed, but curiously eyes the  _ Seiko  _ watch sitting on his wrist, a detail that wouldn’t have been present on the Minho of two years past. “Alright, stop staring at me like that. My car’s parked in the garage next door.”

  
  
  


_ Jisung knows Minho’s never been one for flaunting affection. Definitely not the type to be proposing in public (whenever that happens, if ever) or surprising people with two dozen bouquets of flowers. This inherent knowledge was just a byproduct of being fast friends since high school, and he thought their friendship, built on niceties and dalliances such as impromptu food runs at 3 AM and a small growing collection of silly photobooth pictures, would survive anything the world might throw at them. _

_ They weren’t...a thing, never been, mostly because he loved Minho too much to try and be anything more than a friend. But the “thing” they did have was theirs and theirs alone. _

_ But as of late, the “things” that they had together were much less and less; no more staying up until dawn watching movies, or trips to the convenience store to buy yogurt. Minho was now a “thing” with someone else – his friend Seungmin, and when Jisung postponed their annual trek downtown to check out the city park’s Christmas exhibit in order to better focus on his upcoming exams… Let’s just say his study break later that night was short-lived upon scrolling through his timeline, seeing Seungmin’s smiling face lit up in Christmas lights and propped up on Minho’s finely curated feed – the first confirmation that they’ve gone official. _

_ Jisung wants to hit himself upside the head; why was it so hard for him to accept that his friends were perfectly happy with each other? Everyone else was fine with it. It wasn’t like Minho paraded around with a collar marked with Jisung’s name, because they were never each other’s to begin with. They were just...friends. _

_ When the new year arrives and Minho and Seungmin are three months strong with weeks of playful back and forth keeping them by, Jisung realizes that despite their obvious differences...they’re more compatible than they might seem. Minho is like a jar filled with marbles of all odd shapes and sizes, and Seungmin is the fine, loose sand that fills in all the cracks.  _

_ But for the love of everything that Jisung stands for, Minho is so considerate; always has been, and always will be. Trying his best to make time for his best friend and his boyfriend, constantly double-checking and rechecking and referencing this or that. For as cordial and civil Jisung and Seungmin were (and they really were; Jisung had no bad blood with him whatsoever), it became too apparent that they were two halves of a Venn diagram with only one common thread – Minho. _

_ And when Minho tries to make their thing “our thing” instead, Jisung becomes accustomed to standing down and standing aside. Doesn’t wanna be the third wheel, has too many exams to study for, has a paper due in three days, all said with a complacent smile on his face.  _

_ It doesn’t take long before Minho’s t h i n g s with him become Minho’s t h i n g s with Seungmin instead, and when the older boy stops asking him altogether, Jisung decides to ignore that it really just might be his fault after all. _

_ Jisung inhales sharply and pulls up Seungmin’s Instagram instead. There’s a more telltale photo of the two; a selfie where Seungmin is pressing a puckered kiss to Minho’s cheek, with the older boy grimacing in the most comical of fashions. In the older boy’s hand is a cup of something steaming. _

_ Hot chocolate, Jisung realizes too quickly, because none of the vendors downtown sell coffee. _

_ “You never liked hot chocolate, hyung.” _

  
  
  


In a way, it’s a bit...frustrating? The circumstances are a bit confusing to Jisung, who thinks it so odd that they fall back into old habits so  _ naturally _ , as if two years of space and distance hadn’t occurred to the both of them. Granted, it’s not like they parted on bitter terms, it’s just that Jisung was disillusioned with keeping tabs on someone that – 

Someone that wasn’t his anymore.

But for the amount of catching up they have to do, and the comfortable back-and-forth that begins the moment that they’re back in Minho’s familiar, modest sedan (“You  _ just _ came back from the States and you want  _ burgers _ ?” “You told me I could pick!”), Jisung wonders why he’s out here by his lonesome when normally he’d be somewhere within spitting distance of Seungmin.

Jisung is too afraid to ask about that aspect of things because...he wants to cherish the moment he has now.

So here they are, parked near the peak overlooking the whole city. For as crazy as New York looked at night, Jisung couldn’t possibly compare to the sight in front of him now, and a warm, welcoming feeling floods his entire being. (Aside from the slight October chill that permeates the down of his jacket.)

It’s always quiet up here at night because everyone usually doesn’t stay long past sundown, and the crinkling of paper pulls Jisung out of the depths of his mind. His own paper bag is sitting in front of him – a local burger joint, with a standard helping of a cheeseburger and french fries. His drink, a milkshake of his own, is sitting on the hood of the car as well, and a tiny bit of condensation has already accumulated under the cup.

“...I know it’s really pretty up here, but you’re unusually quiet for someone who normally talks with their mouth full,” Minho snarks in between bites of his own burger, drawing a sneer from Jisung. “You know, you can always tell me if something’s on your mind.”

_ No matter if we haven’t talked in two years. _

“...It’s nothing. The jet lag is just getting to me, I guess,” Jisung fibs, but he knows Minho doesn’t buy it; Minho ignores his lie and continues.

“Okay then,” Minho replies all too nonchalantly. Jisung knows that he’s always been good at that, steering the conversation away and knowing not to pry too hard. “Your folks know you’re back home, right?”

Jisung nods, choosing to focus on unwrapping the burger in his lap. “They actually think I’m arriving  _ next week _ . I got a place at a hotel downtown so I can just...dick around, I guess. Reintegrate myself into society as any normal person would.” A chuckle slips out of him and Minho joins him.

“Does anyone else know you’re back in town, then?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the first. I wasn’t even expecting to see you...so soon.” The word catches on his throat and Jisung turns away to look at a random flower sprouting through a crack in the concrete. “I suppose it’d be cool to get in touch with everyone again, though. I didn’t realize I’d missed everyone until I landed this morning.”

“Oh? So you just got off the plane  _ today _ ?” When Jisung returns his eyes to Minho, the older man is smiling at him with that typical mischievous way of his. “You know, it  _ has  _ been a while since we did any of our old  _ things _ . Literally.”

“For once, you’re not wrong about something,” Jisung laughs as he pops a french fry into his mouth. “Though, you don’t think Seungmin will – “

He realizes too late what’s come out of his mouth and immediately stops himself. Beside him, Minho stops fumbling with his paper bag, and the silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable.

  
  
  


_ “...Hey, can we talk?” _

_ Minho is the last person Jisung expects when he opens his front door, seeing as they’ve hardly spoken on a level befitting “best friends” in the last few months. _

_ Jisung swallows the hard lump in his throat and pushes a smile up onto his cheeks. “...If you can be quick? I’ve got dinner plans and then I have to come back here to study.” He’s gotten accustomed to holing up in his room to study instead, now that he waits for no one in the cafeteria during his breaks. _

_ Minho blinks like he briefly misunderstands, but the anomalistic moment subsides as Jisung lets him into his dorm room. _

_ Where once they would have huddled on his tiny couch together watching horror movies into the morning, they instead stand six feet from each other as if the ground had literally split open between them. While Minho’s eyes are steely and focused on Jisung, the younger boy chooses to stare at the carpet underneath instead. _

_ “...Sungie, I think we both know what I’m about to say here, but I’ll do you one more and ask you straight to your face: do you hate me? Do you hate Seungmin? Did I do something wrong – “ _

_ “Minho, we’ve talked about this before. I don’t – “ Jisung pauses to hold in the bile rising in the back of his throat. The hands at his sides clench and then unclench. “...I don’t hate you. I definitely don’t hate Seungmin. Nothing is wrong. Everything is f i n e.” _

_ “Then why do you avoid me like the fucking plague? We haven’t seriously hung out in like, months, and you’ve been acting like you’re so...above everything. It pisses me off.” Minho rarely gets angry, hates being angry, but the thundering in Jisung’s chest makes this moment feel like sweet, sweet release. _

_ He shakes his head and grimaces at Minho. “...I don’t know why you’re making a big deal about this. It’s not like I’ve never given you a valid reason to not wanna hang out – “ _

_ “Not talking to me for nearly two semesters doesn’t count as a valid reason – “ _

_ “Well, maybe some of us actually wanna get ahead in life, Minho!” Jisung snaps, perhaps a little louder than he would have liked. His jaw trembled slightly, but forced himself to clench as a true show of his weak facade. _

_ The look on Minho’s face is something he’d never seen before – a look that switches between betrayal, disappointment, and finally, realization. _

_ Jisung shakes his head and turns toward the door. “...I really should get going. Felix is waiting for me. It’s Taco Tuesday, y’know?” He chuckles dryly, but if only to mask the impending flood of emotions to follow. Taco Tuesday was t h e i r thing. “And I still have the transfer papers to fill out when I get back and – “ _

_ “W-Wait. Did you say “transfer papers”?” _

_ The plastic grin on Jisung’s face grows even wider. “...Ah. Right, I forgot to tell you; I decided to apply to that one music school in New York. You know – the one I was always really iffy about checking out because it was overseas? Well...I applied and got in.” _

_ Minho’s visage becomes even steelier, his jaw locked tight as the process of thought is all too visible on his face. “...And when are you…?” _

_ “After the summer,” Jisung murmurs, just enough for the both of them to hear. “...I really should g-get going. I don’t want to keep Lix waiting. Can you just – “ _

_ Jisung immediately spins on his heel, facing the door instead and moving to open it. _

_ “...Just close the door behind you. Okay?” _

_ When he steps out into the hallway, his footsteps power him forward. No looking back, only looking forward. He hopes Minho doesn’t see the way he’s pawing at the tears running down his face. _

  
  
  


It feels like an eternity, that  _ second _ in which Jisung’s breath stalls in his throat because he’s trying to figure out what to say next during this moment he’d awkwardly created.

Minho goes first. “...We broke up over a year ago.”

Jisung’s gaze is locked onto his lap, at the half-eaten burger in his small hands and the crumply paper bag sitting between his legs.

“...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – “

“No, it’s fine. It’s alright.” Cautiously, he raises his eyes to meet Minho’s again, and the casual, carefree expression on the older man’s face speaks volumes.

Jisung’s face remains tense; things like this would never be cause for celebration, and hearing this news now didn’t elicit any of the happiness he once imagined it would bring him.

“You know, you don’t have to tell me anything about it. I won’t pry; it’s okay.”

The tilt of Minho’s eyebrow is enough for Jisung to realize that the other man is going to be quite the contrarian tonight. “But I  _ will _ . I feel like you’d find out anyway if you asked anyone else of our friends, but I’d just prefer if...you heard it from me yourself.”

A brief moment of confusion washes over Jisung and he tilts his head to one side as he tries to decipher what exactly his best friend is getting at.

Minho simply hugs his knees up to his chest and inhales the mountain air sharply. Even in only sparse moonlight, his eyes twinkle like they were carved from the starry sky itself. He’s clearly aged (Minho graduated before his last summer in Seoul, and the only thing he remembers is Seungmin kissing him in front of his own parents after the ceremony) in the last two years since they both went to school together, but Jisung realized a long time ago that he aged like fine wine.

His eyes linger just a second too long on the line of his jaw, and the natural pout of those lips he wished he’d had the opportunity to taste first.

“...Well. Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

Jisung blinks, shaken out of his reverie. “I... _ should I? _ I feel like this is a trick question.”

When Minho laughs, the uncertainty in Jisung’s body just...melts away, and it’s not long before he matches the grin on Minho’s face. Jisung watches the way Minho fidgets with the rings on his slim fingers, and the way the light breeze blows at the fringe peeking out from under his beanie.

“...We didn’t last much longer after you left, actually.”

The confusion is even more palpable on Jisung’s face, judging by the way his eyebrows are tucked into hard lines on his forehead. “Really? You two seemed to hit it off so well.  _ Too well _ , I might add,” he grumbles.

“ _ That _ was part of it. I guess.” Minho’s posture relaxes and Jisung follows suit. “I mean – it was  _ great _ , y’know? Even if we had our differences, Seungmin just has this... _ thing _ about making things work. Conceding, giving, taking,  _ everything _ . He met everything halfway, and I was grateful but…”

“But…?”

“It wasn’t exciting. Nothing was  _ new _ , nothing was  _ different _ . And you know me, I’m always willing to negotiate. It wasn’t even like we had fights or disagreements because...we quashed everything. Like two mature, like-minded individuals would.” A deep sigh leaves Minho’s throat, and Jisung sees it through the cool air. “I think you can see where I’m going with this, right?”

“You broke up because...there was no spark.”

“Two matches, but no flame.”

Jisung takes a moment to consider the situation because he’d mistakenly believed that Minho and Seungmin were more compatible than he thought.

“...That’s not the only reason why we broke up though.” Now, Minho cranes his neck to look straight at Jisung.

The younger boy held his gaze for a moment before he broke it off to stare at his drink instead. “What else is new?”

“...Seungmin was very patient. Like  _ really  _ patient. The boy has the patience of a literal angel, and I was really blessed to have been one of the few people to see a different side of him. You know it was his idea to include you in plenty of our things?”

“Wait – really…?”

Minho nods knowingly, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. Even though we were all friends, I had wanted to separate  _ our things _ from the things that  _ you and I _ had. But Seungmin wouldn’t have any of it, called me an idiot, and always wanted me to ask you first.”

Jisung’s throat runs dry, and his mouth lies agape even though the words can’t come to him at the moment.

“When you left for New York, he told me – “ Minho clears his throat briefly before resuming. 

  
  
  


_ “...It’s obvious that Jisung leaving has really taken a toll on you. I mean, I would be upset too if my best friend suddenly moved across the world without any prior warning. But while I love you, Minho - and God knows I really do – you, of all people, should know that I can’t give you what Jisung has always provided for you. And that’s why I think we need to break up.” _

  
  
  


“Shocking, right?” Minho laughs, a laugh that’s a little bit crass but at the same time warm and understanding. Jisung knows that Minho understood exactly what Seungmin was getting at. “I mean, at first, I wanted to fight him. Like for  _ once _ in an actual year, I actually wanted to fight him, but...Seungmin is smart. And he knew he was right because Seungmin’s  _ always  _ right. Tch.”

“I…” Jisung’s voice comes out just a tad bit too thin, a bit too quiet and too timid for his liking. His cheeks burn against the chilly autumn breeze.

“It hurt. It really did,” Minho resumes, pausing to take a sip from his coffee and cradling the warm container between his hands. “To lose two of the most important people in my life right after each other...you’d think I’d have done some crazy things to cope. But our friends are much better people than we give them credit for.”

His bottom lip quivers when Jisung finally lifts his head to look up at Minho. It was a bit hard to notice, but the whites of his eyes have become pink.

“I really missed you, y’know? Me, Seungmin, Chan, Felix, Hyunjin, Jeongin –  _ God _ , even my cats missed you.”

Jisung feels something a drop of something damp hit the fabric of his jeans, and when he looks down, instantly notices the teardrop falling from his eyes.

“...I’m sorry.  _ God _ , I – “ A hoarse chuckle erupts from his throat, half-choked with tears and half-stuttered in his typical  _ Han Jisung _ type of way. “I’m so stupid. You know how many nights I  _ cried _ myself to sleep in my apartment in New York?!” The chuckle turns into a cheeky laugh, with the tears now streaming freely down his puffy cheeks. “I really missed you guys too, I...I’m too sober for this, Minho. We should have just stayed at the bar and gotten drunk.”

Minho laughs with him, already raising his hands to his face to rub at his eyes. “How did we ever go this long without...without being around each other?”

“I don’t –  _ I don’t know _ , but I’m so glad I decided you were the first one I ran into after getting off the plane this morning.”

The way Minho scratches at the back of his neck in that boyishly handsome way of his always sends Jisung’s heart fluttering, and the grin on his face could not be any bigger.

“...So, best friends again?”

Jisung watches him for a second, searches his features like a window into Minho’s deepest thoughts and emotions.

“Actually,” he murmurs, moving onto his knees and moving closer to the other. “I think it’s time for me to do the one thing I should have done a long time ago.”

Jisung leans forward with his hands outstretched, moving to rest them on the back of his neck before pulling him in and closing the short distance between them. Mere seconds pass before Minho’s arms snake around him, one hand pressing insistently at the small of his back and the other pulling him even closer.

They pull away to breathe not too long after and sit there in comfortable silence, their breaths hot on each other’s lips and their foreheads pressed together.

“...I’ve been waiting since sophomore year to do that.”

“In  _ high school…?! _ ”

Jisung giggles like he’s seventeen again. “Yeah. But I was young and stupid; I wasn’t going to do it  _ then _ .”

“You’re  _ still  _ young and stupid if it really took you this long to figure out that we’re on the same wavelength.” Minho chuckles and tightens his embrace around Jisung’s smaller figure.

“Better late than never.”

Jisung bites his lip in anticipation, especially when he’s right there in Minho’s arms, searching for galaxies in his big, bright eyes.

“...Guess we just have to make up for a lot of lost time then.”

“I guess so.”

Minho punctuates Jisung’s sentence for him, pressing their lips together for a kiss that’s just a bit too feverish, and leaves Jisung a bit lightheaded when they pull away again to catch their breaths.

“...You mentioned that no one knows you’re back home already, right?”

Jisung tilts his head curiously. “Yeah. Why?”

“That means…” Minho begins, interspersing his explanation with peppered kisses on Jisung’s lips. “...I have you...all to myself...for a week.”

Jisung breaks out into laughter and pounds on Minho’s chest. “You’re so gross. A literal  _ ape _ . I dunno how Seungmin was able to handle this.”

“Hey! I take offense to that – “ Minho’s grin is fierce, and Jisung doesn’t protest this time when he pulls him back down for a bruising kiss. “...Seriously though. Welcome home, Sungie.”

The smile on Jisung is the most genuine he’s had all night, and it feels like if he smiled any wider his cheeks just might fall off. Somehow, the stars aligned, and even as they drove themselves apart, they could only find their way back to each other.

“Glad to be home indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was actually supposed to be a bit more jovial and much more celebratory, but halfway through writing it became really sad and mushy lmao! still, thank you so much for taking time to read it, and i sincerely hope you enjoyed it! for more submissions, please check out https://twitter.com/minsungseason !


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